Of Children and Doting Parents
by Dantriestobeproductive
Summary: Night Vale loves Cecil, the way a blind child loves the mother or father who takes time of their lives to explain the beauty of a sunrise.


I wrote this ages ago, so I'm not really sure if it contradicts the actual canon in any way since I'm not up to date with the podcast...So yeah, consider this an AU.

On the other hand, Night Vale. Always listen to your town's Voice, kids!

* * *

><p>Night Vale loves Cecil, the way a blind child loves the mother or father who takes time of their lives to explain the beauty of a sunrise.<p>

But Night Vale is no Child, and Cecil is no Doting Parent.

And still, it loves its Voice nonetheless.

Night Vale cherishes and protects its loved ones.

(Even if they sometimes are naughty and need re-education because, let's be honest, you can't go talking about things no one acknowledges of existing, and they _should_ know better).

Overall, Night Vale always watches.

And Cecil, little Cecil, not tall nor short, not fat nor thin, young and old lovely _Cecil_, is its favorite. It likes him so, so much, it leaves him have his way most of the time, 'wish and thou shall receive_'_. Even Carlos, the _too curious_ foreigner scientist, is forgiven for _a lot_ of things because Cecil, _its _child, would be upset should anything too bad happen to the man. Night Vale is okay with little big Cecil having a little nice company.

The centuries must get long for him, after all.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Night Vale remembers, with a pang of nostalgia and excitement, the moment the settlers had camped and given it (her? Him? Them? It doesn't matter, for a town has a thousand faces and none) a name. Well, the name may have been Night Vale's idea, but becoming a town such as what it was in the present? Oh, that had been all _their _doing. And how it'd loved them for not running away, for staying even with the sounds and whistles and shadows that would appear at night.

(Of course, it made sure they couldn't leave.

Just in case.)

The town had grown so quickly, it seemed. One day, it was barely two or three families, slowly building their tiny houses. Then, nearly twenty families were filling the before deserted, well, desert. Night Vale was in such joy, that when Cecil appeared, how _could it_ let him go? Adorable Cecil, who didn't fear the Witches' and Demons' Whispers at night, but would so readily obey it, when it told the young boy to never go out after dusk, be good and love his city. When it told him that love was such an important ingredient in a healthy lifestyle, and that it was a silly idea that of mountains existing. No, no, the world was round, but _mountains_? Pure myths, really.

And the city felt _so delighted_ every time the boy took its words as truth, no matter how ridiculous they were to the adults. Oh, it liked Cecil so much, it just had to _bless him_.

And so it did, with a nice eye in his forehead, and shadows painted, tattooed in his skin (only his to move around, like any other natural body part). It's curious, how it didn't take notice of the child's unseeing eyes until that moment, and decided to fix that too.

_Cecil _now _Cecil-less, _its _Child, its_ to keep.

Cecil was the first, and was the one who gave it the idea. Night Vale started with the children, and quickly went for the adults. A plan so simple it was easy to fulfill.

Slowly, make everything be as the town wished them to be, pliant and content.

Create the Council.

Free humans from their weird and constricting breeding rituals and nature.

Reform time.

Reform it again.

Reform it and twist it so it _finally _listened to it (and hadn't that been a bother; time could be so _stubborn_).

Maybe reposition its localization a little (the _further away_ from Desert Bluffs the _better_), and then take care of the regular earthquakes that came with that decision.

And all was well.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The Council think they're the powerful ones, with their laws, Hooded Figures and many more things that are kept hidden. So Night Vale makes sure of dropping by once in a while, and offer ideas (_whisper in their unhearing ears, a suggestion on caramel tasting wind_) such as constructing a Waterfront. Just for fun.

Because Night Vale _knows_ (knew, will know) who has the real power over the Council and itself. Only Night Vale knows, for all the mysterious disappearances, the antagonistic relationship with a skeptic and the thirst of revenge towards one hairdresser, the power that the once blind, weak child has over him. The child for whom it'd changed time so he could stay at its side _forever_, even if that tiny human brain of his had to be reset once in a while (for his own wellbeing, of course, humans weren't made to live forever, to support the weight of centuries). The child who's served it as a bridge between being a forsaken and chained entity and turning into a grand, beautiful Town.

Night Vale will always, always love its Voice, and its Voice will be loyal to it.

Like a blind child to his Parent.


End file.
